


Have You Heard of Your Lord and Saviour, Yourself?

by Ononymous



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 21:37:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14819333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ononymous/pseuds/Ononymous
Summary: Though all memory of monsters had long vanished from humanity before their sudden re-emergence, the idea of them remained alive in culture. Stories, art, music, even faiths and beliefs acknowledge their possibility, and also their potential for power. So when the self-declared King of Monsters looks a lot like what your dark master proclaimed, surely it's a sign, right?





	Have You Heard of Your Lord and Saviour, Yourself?

_...While we appreciate that the treaty has already been ratified without amendment in twenty countries and legislative alignment has begun in another eight, Her Majesty's Government must formally request an exemption to article eight, section one of the treaty before they submit it for ratification in Parliament. As His Majesty may be aware, unilateral ratification from London on the matter of a devolved power would raise constitutional questions with regards to the devolved governments in Edinburgh, Cardiff and Belfast. Should amendment or exemption be deemed impossible, an alternative we present to His Majesty would be to consider a delay in our acceptance of the terms while the devolved governments debate and give assent to the treaty._

Asgore let the letter slip from his hands as the amusement it stimulated painted a smile on his muzzle. The fact it was a letter at all was part of the fun. He'd asked the British Ambassador to reach him by e-mail, as part of his efforts to modernise. Doctor Alphys had set up a domain for him especially, after Frisk mused that goreyrules@yippee.com might not impart the dignity the diplomatic stage expected. Another thing that amused him was the impression the author was delighted to address someone as "His Majesty". "Mister Ambassador" and "Madame President" was the norm these days, so a throwback to the old days must be a pleasant change of pace for them. A second rebuffed request was the final source of his cheerfulness. The tone of the letter was clearly intended for a fellow ambassador, even though it was addressed to him personally. Even in the old days, it was rare for an ambassador to correspond directly with a sovereign, despite the fact he had requested they do so. Not that he took all decisions by himself – if he could help it, he would never do so again – but he was a better port of call than pestering Frisk on a school night.

Sipping his tea, he briefly toyed with responding by e-mail regardless, but a few flakes of rust fell away from his diplomatic instincts. Better to use the petitioner's form of communication unless otherwise requested, to signal you acknowledged them as an equal. A moment's rummaging gave him a page of writing paper and his journal's pen. He rested the tip on his mouth as his thoughts on the proposal crystallised. Yes, a delay shouldn't be too troublesome, though some sort of public statement reaffirming their commitment wouldn't go amiss. Oh, wait, what about that holiday Undyne proposed to take with Alphys near a Scottish Lake? That had been planned with the assumption the treaty's protection would be in place. They booked the tickets last week. Hmm. Perhaps their Foreign Office could extend a diplomatic visa to them in the meantime, as diplomatic protection would be an adequate substitute? If not, well perhaps he should make his own official visit before the treaty was ratified, and Undyne and Alphys would be part of his entourage. Besides, an English Tea Shop sounded delightful. It probably wouldn't be too far from where they were staying. Best not to mention that part though, just the quid pro quo. At last he put pen to paper.

_Noble Sir, I hath received your entreaty with thanks, and hope ye be well. I worry not of_

Oh dear. Old habits truly die hard. He'd made that mistake twice before, and it had been Frisk to point out that diplomatic language had modernised with the rest of it. He was sorry to learn nobody said "ye" anymore. Crumpling the letter in his hand, it burst into a small flame, and soon was a pile of ashes he deposited in the bin, before grabbing another sheet of paper and starting again. Eventually the counterproposal, ye-free, looked rather good. He'd get Frisk and perhaps Toriel to once-over it before sending it in the morning. Satisfied at the decision, he finished his tea and then walked over to his computer, where he delicately typed in a search for the opening hours of the nearby post office. Five pm, plenty of time. It meant that the list of chores he'd been forced to neglect because of his duties wouldn't have to be cleared today. Truth be told he'd attended to this letter to delay thinking about it. Now he could only do a few of them and permit himself a short break before-

_Knock knock._

A momentary snort of weariness slipped from his nostrils, before coming to terms with probably losing his respite. "Coming!" He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt as he lumbered down the stairs, wondering what the trouble might be. He'd already had to suggest to Temmie to leave Temmie alone, and if she hadn't listened or even started picking on Temmie as well as Temmie, well... Never mind, best foot forward. He opened the door.

"Howdy! What can I do for..."

The appearance of his guests interrupted his greeting without a sound. Two figures in blood red robes, up to his shoulders in height, faces covered by darkness provided by their gold-trimmed hoods. They stood in silence while Asgore wondered whether the orange shirt festooned with kittens was less than appropriate given their formality.

"Erm... Are you alright?"

At his prompt, they both genuflected, any hint of their faces vanishing as they focused on his flowery "WELCOME" mat. Then they spoke in unison.

"Hail to thee, Scion of Molloch."

Ah. More of those. At least they were more respectful than the previous group. Oh well, hopefully he could set things straight.

"I see. Well I must thank you for your kind words, gentlemen, but I'm sorry to say I'm not who you think I am. My father's name was Aslaud."

The rebuff firmly planted, Asgore sealed it by closing the door in their face. It felt rude to do so, but it was best to rip the bandage off all at once. Otherwise he'd be in for reciting ancient history he'd had to have debunked by Gerson to get them to understand. To ease his discomfort, he started thinking about which chore to-

 _Knock knock._ He wasn't getting off that easy. He opened the door again, just in time to see one of the figures return to his submissive position after knocking the door. Perhaps following his instincts might help.

"Would... would either of you care for a cup of tea?"

No, they wouldn't. "Hail to... thou, Scion of Molloch?"

Asgore accepted their accolade pleasantly. "Again, I must thank you, but again you've got the wrong king. Besides, 'thee' and 'thou' are, in fact, the informal manner of addressing someone. In the old days 'ye' and 'you' were reserved for formal greetings like you are trying to impart. I was there, I should remember it."

"Dude, I told you-"

"Shut it!"

The harsh whispers reached Asgore's ears. He'd cultivated enough of a feeling for what these people expected to know he'd dashed them entirely, and they were a little unsure how to proceed.

"Well gentlemen, if there is nothing else I really must-"

"We have observed the signs!" That was a fast recovery. "We know your time is at hand, and we wish to aid your goals prove ourselves worthy of a boon, a dark token of your great power!"

Absently he looked away from them, pondering the basket of laundry that rested upstairs for him to wash. "Um, that won't be possible. I'm sorry, but I have a lot to do, I can't explain everything to you right-"

"We can help. We place ourselves at your disposal, my lord! Anything you command, we shall obey!"

His worst instincts recommended he command them to leave, before decorum regained control. "Um, I'm really not able to-"

"Anything, sire!"

It was just like the first time, when he'd given these people an inch. They were blind to his rejection. It was going to time to persuade them he couldn't give them what they wanted, time he didn't have.

Anything, though...

"Anything?"

"Yeah. I mean yes, my lord."

He didn't like it, it felt like exploiting their zeal. But if these two birds were not about to fly away, he might as well use a single stone.

"Well..."

Twenty minutes later his new friends were raking leaves from the tree that occupied a strategic corner of his front lawn. Asgore was not putting his feet up while they worked. Partly to make him feel better about this, he stood atop his ladder, clearing out the gutters. All the while he was loudly trying to impart the explanation their predecessors had forced him to learn for why he was no dark scion, ever since the first of them accosted him at the garden center.

"...and then the likeness of Pan was co-opted and warped into a more malevolent figure than a playful trickster. Gerson, my old friend, he swears his grandfather knew the boss monster that inspired Pan, though I'm not sure how true that is, I don't think many of us lived in Greece back then. Now I'm not saying that disproves anything, but just to say I don't have anything to do with Molloch. I've never heard of him before your 'Grand High Master' tried to explain. Golly, I never expected a visitor like that while I was babysitting."

"But... the texts..." panted the slightly larger fellow, apparently not used to physical labour, "They spoke of... one emerging from below... king of all but man... ten heads tall, horns of wicked nature... the fire of dragons and the cloven hooves of a beast..."

Asgore patiently pinched the bridge of his muzzle upon hearing this prophecy. Finished with the gutter he swiftly dismounted from the ladder and approached where they had gathered the leaves, stopping to look straight down. His stance silently invited them to look at his feet. His large, fluffy, paw-like feet, bereft of hooves, cloven or otherwise.

"Well, the texts warned that prophecy is imprecise," the second figure recovered, displaying his more conscientious raking technique.

"So I've heard," said Asgore, outwardly pleasant but a little disappointed that this obstacle had been negotiated. "But even if they describe me, they're wrong inthe sense that I cannot-"

"Hark!" cried the first figure. "We hath rounded up your foes and left the yard presentable for your master when the stars are right."

"About time, Dennis," muttered the second. "Could have finished faster if you didn't skip the gym."

"After finals, Olly, I told you." They fidgeted awkwardly at the bickering, so with a shared nod they returned to the charm. "What other dark acts would you bid of us?"

"They aren't dark," Asgore insisted, "I just said 'Help me clear my front lawn', in those words. I can't give you what-"

"We are wise to your trickster ways and your test of deceit," ignored Olly, "and remain ready to be faithful servants."

Scratching his neck, the King grunted in mild exasperation. It looked like he was in this for the long haul. So while he cleared the detritus on the shelved of his garage he'd managed to accumulate with surprising speed, he watched them cleaning the inside of his car. They in turn held him to the point, redoubling their efforts to convince them they were truly worthy by how they had identified the signs.

"' _The king shall announce his presence on the second crescent moon of the month._ '"

"That was a coincidence, we lost track of the moon's position centuries ago. Only old newspapers gave us a hint."

"' _His herald represents the dead who have joined him._ '"

"Papyrus introduced me to a news reporter one time, he is not my herald. Oh, and pay attention to that custom annex for my horns, it gathers dust like there is no tomorrow."

"Sure thing! ' _One works without his knowledge, seeking to restore what was lost, not ready to reveal the truth until the time is right._ '"

...what? "How can I argue about something happening outside my knowledge, you can't possibly have associated that with me."

"' _His viceroy is regent of the seas, she commands the waves in his name._ '"

Oh dear, what _did_ Undyne get up to at Aaron's birthday party? He'd heard rumours. "Nobody commands anything in my name, I am not a modern Canute. We have no dark designs or wicked plans. We just want to live in peace and freedom."

"As do we all," Dennis began to recite, "but is peace possible without power? Did Tacitus not instruct us to make a desert and call it peace?"

Asgore sniffed, worried for how deep they were into. "Gerson's Grandfather claimed he said 'kill them all and let Jupiter sort it out', or however one says it in Latin, but you're missing the point of that phrase-"

"Ah, your determination to steer us from the true path is immense," complimented Olly, "but ours to remain is greater."

"Humans are like that, yes." They missed his wry tone. "Oh, you missed that stale popato chisp."

"Oh, thanks sire."

"Don't-" he sighed. "Never mind. You boys finished?"

"If you don't want the seats vacuumed, then yes. Are we worthy of your dark blessing now?"

"I wouldn't say dark, but I shall give you the one blessing I am able to."

Their palpable excitement radiated from them as he led them into his house and through to the kitchen, where he poured three glasses of pink liquid, handing them one apiece.

"Does this eldritch elixir grant us wondrous abilities?" asked Olly expectantly.

"I doubt it," joked Asgore, "it's MTT™ Orange and Pineapple Replicate Condensed Extract Juice. Not my preference, but my child seems to like it. It's easy to work up a thirst tending to household work like this. You might need to brush your teeth afterwards though. Drink up!"

They pulled off the impressive trick of not showing any of their face as they drank. The glasses were smothered in shadow while full, and returned to the light empty. From the corner of his eye as he took the glasses to the sink, Asgore caught them giving their hands a furtive look, as though they half-expected magical energy to burst from them. They were disappointed. Out of politeness he pretended not to notice.

"Well boys, I must thank you for your help, but I'm sure you must need to go and-"

"What else is thy bidding, master?" asked Dennis. "Oh wait, what else is _your_ bidding. Is that right?"

"It is!" He was genuinely pleased they were using it correctly. "But, em, it's not fair to ask you to do any more than you've done, because-"

"This world is not fair, my lord," said Olly, "we all must be the slayer or the slain."

"Goodness, it doesn't have to come to that!" His mighty hands were a blur as they tried to wave them down from violence. "And besides, I still can't give you what you want."

Olly's hood gave off a slightly smug attitude. "Your test is thorough, but we will not be deceived. You can trust us with your power, it can only further your cause."

"I'm sure you'd use such power wisely, but I am not a font you can tap. Would you like to see my daffodils? I find them rather soothing whenever I'm flustered about something. There they are by the sink."

"Wow," said Dennis, "they look really alive-"

Olly turned to him, and whatever his face showed stifled Dennis' adulation. Then he returned to Asgore. "Grant us another task, master! We shall purge the grime from the grout of your tiles your enemies have planted to harry your schemes-"

"Um, I did that last week."

"-we shall cleanse the altar of your last sacrifice so that it can be defiled anew to please Molloch-"

"Sorry, but I don't have an altar."

"-we shall wash your robes and hang them up to dry so when you are ready to make your move, you shall look the part!"

...he really had put off his laundry too long. "Alright, but then that will be the end of it."

It wasn't. After the last shirt was hung out to try, it was back out front to collect the trimmings as Asgore tidied his bushes, to ensure the cosmic vibrations were not upset by a stray twig. Then it was sorting out his junk mail, each letter scrutinized intensely for the coded sign that the dark conquest could begin. With that completed, the three of them changed the linen in his spare bedroom, to give Molloch a chance to recover from the draining effects of the final summoning. This went on and on, the tasks growing more mundane, and their expectations growing ever wilder. At last, Asgore had run out of chores, and out of ways to dissuade them. If he didn't get them to understand now, they never would. So the three of them sat in the living room, the acolytes given another eldritch elixir more to Asgore's taste, brewed in his floweriest teapot, accompanied by equally eldritch biscuits.

"Drink up," he requested once more, "you've earned it after all that hard work. I must thank you for it."

Ever eager to please, they entered a contest to see who could take a drink first. Dennis spluttered, apparently having drunk too quickly. Then with all the malevolence they'd been trying to project since turning up, they dipped their biscuits into the tea. Asgore took a deep breath, summoning his determination to end this.

"Gentlemen, please listen to me. I don't-"

"You will not dissuade us, Scion, we shall-"

" _Listen._ "

His patience frayed, Asgore had commanded them for the first time. If anything this elevated their excitement, like he was finally getting down to business, but it had the desired effect of silence. He allowed himself a hearty drink of his own tea, helping him find the best words to explain the heart of the problem.

"I still do not believe your texts refer to me or any other monster. But even if it turns out I am indeed the subject of such a prophecy, they are wrong in the most critical aspect, at least as you appear to believe it. Monsters cannot empower humans. All monsters have magic, it is true, and our magic can affect humans, but we cannot impart magical abilities like you desire, or I've seen in a few films. There are – or at least there were – humans that could wield magic, it is how we came to be sealed, but my understanding is that it's a quirk of birth rather than a learned skill, and monsters have no surviving knowledge of human training. If you cannot manifest magic, there is nothing I can do to help you. I'm sorry."

It was a good summation, he thought. The apologetic tone was sincere, especially as he had benefited so much from their misguided passions. They certainly looked thoughtful while they pondered his words. Dennis had taken a pink wafer and was nibbling on it. Maybe they'd finally-

"So you're saying," said Olly, "that such a gift cannot be granted freely. There must be payment."

Oh lord. "No, no price can buy what you seek from me..."

"We can offer payment in blood," piped up Dennis, "in case it came to that we've-"

"Please stop," pleaded Asgore, "there is nothing I can offer. Do you like your cups? You can take them, but that's all I can-"

"We won't give up!" cried Olly, the deferential tone slipping. "We are prepared to give up our very souls if it-"

_Souls. Seven human souls. My duty. No. Not again. I just wanted to-_

His vision swam as the offer carved deeply into him, six sources of unbearable torment waking from dormancy to remind him. But rather than crushing him, on this occasion he was equal to the task. And all the while a force was boiling in his chest. A force that had once caused the seventh torment he also dwelled on, and they fed each other in tandem. Olly hadn't noticed, he was continuing to beg.

"-and once we've cowed them into following our demands we can- Hey, are you okay? Your eyes look funny."

"No."

"Why, what's-"

"I will not do it. Leave my house now."

"Come on, if we can get that power we'll-"

"No. No. _No. No! **No! No!! NO!!! ENOUGH!!!**_ "

Three tinkles announced three broken cups. Two had been dropped in shock at the thunderous roar, and the third had been thrown to the ground in a rage absent from the room a moment before. Asgore was now on his feet, leaning over his guests and snorting hot breath in their faces with sharp teeth bared. He was vaguely aware of the temperature rising, and only the hoods concealed the fear on Dennis and Olly's faces, but all he could truly feel was the anger. It pulsed with every heartbeat, each thump also accompanied by seven stabs of anguish.

"Petulant children. Clinging to the mad scribbles of a long-dead fool without a thought in your heads. You don't know what you ask of me! Demanding I add more pain and torment to my tally just so you may enact some twisted scheme for your own benefit. Never! Never again! And you would not benefit from it in any case, you could never wield the power gained. All those other humans beseeching me understood their mistake long before now, but you two are either truly without brains or just determined to make me... The price is too high, I... I've paid enough... Never again… Tori, I... I'm so sorry... "

The rage had retreated as quickly as it had come. A mighty thump accompanied Asgore collapsing to his knees. He no longer cared about putting on airs or what his guests thought. The anguish continued, and he was letting himself wallow in it, broad shoulders shaking in silent sobs. His cheeks felt damp, but only for a moment as his tears evaporated. Among the grief, there was a realisation: The anger had not been at his guests' behaviour. It was anger at himself, and he'd been desperate to get them to understand. Lashing out at someone for his own failures did nothing to help his spirits. His guests watched on at the prize they had inadvertently won. Dennis finished his wafer. Soon Asgore's shoulders were still, his horns pointed at them while he kept his head bowed.

"I... I deserve these reminders, no matter how unintentional. I must never forget, not to the day I die. But they will never grant you what you seek. Don't... don't you have anything better to do?"

He lost track of what they were doing, doing nothing but dwell on what he had done. He had moments like this every now and then, but before Frisk it had been a long time since anyone witnessed it. A loose strand of thought worried if somebody called looking for the king, that he was in no state to help them, and that would be-

"Sorry."

The word pulled his head upwards again. "Excuse me?" His voice was leaden.

"We're sorry, Asgore," repeated Olly. So they actually researched his name. "We were wrong."

What patient explanation had failed to do, sincere despondency had succeeded. He felt a fresh wave of shame. "It's alright. You didn't know. I..."

"They're not twisted." Human and monster turned to Dennis. "Our plans. They're not twisted. And they're not for our benefit."

A spark of curiosity rallied Asgore's crumpled mind. "Why, then? Why come here and ask for the impossible based on a coincidence?"

"I'm..." he turned to Olly, who nodded slightly to impart permission. "We're scared."

"Scared?" Asgore scratched a long floppy ear. "Of what? Monsters?"

"Nah. We've seen weirder guys than you. But the world, man. As a kid things start out so straightforward, but then as you grow up every adult says 'actually, it's more complicated than that', and you lose track of who's good and who's bad. And there's so much going on in the world, and a lot of it sucks, a lot. But what can we do? We're just two guys, we can't make it stop. And we won't be in college forever, soon we'll be in the middle of that, and we've no idea how to deal with it. So we start looking for the power to deal with it, make the crappy stuff stop. And then you monsters show up and... It was a sign..."

Dennis' explanation tailed away. The reciprocation of earnest emotion helped fully collect Asgore, who slumped back into his seat.

"There are different kinds of power. You could say I have a few of them. I have skill. I could fight ten men at once if it came to that. I have magic. My fire can melt steel, and it is not all I can do. And I have authority. There is exactly one monster alive who would refuse my commands, and I would never ask her anyway. But that skill did not prevent my people being banished underground. That magic not did save my children. That authority doused the last embers of my family, leaving a cold husk where a comforting warmth had lived hours before. Power cannot protect you from everything. Anything, really. The whims of fate trump any power you dare to wield."

"Then," said Olly, "how do you cope with what the world throws at you?"

Life finally began to return to Asgore's posture as he considered the question. "...one day at a time. There is no single approach to endure it, and no easy mantra. At the same time you cannot shrink from the world, for that means the things you dislike about it can never get better. And I doubt you two are the only people who feels that way."

"Really?" Olly's tone was mildly sceptical. "Most of the others in our classes seem so collected, they've got it together, they look totally ready to go out and get a job."

"It is easy to look like one has 'got it together'. It's entirely separate from whether it is true. Take it from personal experience." Asgore dipped his head a little. "To help cope, I suppose having a hobby or two can be beneficial, something positive to think about. Since I've returned to the surface I've grown rather fond of tending to Bonsai Trees."

"Ooh!" said Dennis. "My tree is _Chokkan_. That's upright in the traditional formal style."

"Really?" Asgore looked up again, his smile re-emerging. "According to a video I watched on the internet my slanting style is called _Shakan_ , I think...?"

The rest of the visit was perfectly amicable as the aficionados swapped notes, both having plenty of experience to share. Olly smiled – as far as Asgore could make out under the hood – and nodded, not having much interest in the subject. Instead he atoned for his earlier affront by cleaning up the broken china. Soon no physical trace of the argument remained.

"...well monsters have had to grow food in rougher soil than that," Asgore concluded, "I can email you a list of techniques, I don't believe they're all magic-based."

"Thanks!"

"Dennis, we're gonna be late for our group study," said Olly.

"Damn, you're right. Hey, we have to go now Asgore. Sorry about the misunderstanding."

"Think nothing of it. But if I could offer one more piece of advice: Never bear your woes alone if you can. I did that for the longest time, trapped by my own power. Always have the courage to confide in your friends."

"Well we did, that's how we started getting into the texts..."

"Perhaps a few other friends, then," he chuckled. "But take care."

"Hey Olly. What about the...?"

"Oh crap, you're right, we won't have time to bring it back."

"Bring what back?" asked Asgore.

"Hang on..." They hurried outside, the King wondering what was going on now. Heavy grunting announced their return as they were clearly struggling with-

Oh. Oh no. Not another one.

"Um, you do not have to-"

"Well we weren't sure what kind of, um tribute you expected, so we got this in case it required a sacrifice of some sort."

"That's really not necessary, I do not need-"

"After how rude we were, we'd feel awful if you didn't get anything out of it. You can keep it."

"But I- Um, that's very kind of you..."

"Great! Thanks again for the advice!"

And they left, leaving the large crate they carried in behind. Asgore continued to look at it while he heard their car start up, almost persuading himself it wasn't what he knew it would be. Whoever wrote those texts had some funny ideas. At last he slid the hole-ridden lid off.

"Baa-a-a-a-a-a-a!"

Yep.

* * *

"..."

"SO THAT'S WHY YOUR KITCHEN WAS FULL OF FLOWERS WHEN WE ARRIVED, SIRE?"

"Exactly, Papyrus. Most of them just gave one to me straight away expecting some sort of boon, and were so dejected when I explained they didn't bother to retrieve them. These last two waited until the very end."

"Baa-a-a!"

The king was flanked by two skeletons, one squat and one lanky, watching as the small herd of goats of a variety of breeds grazed contentedly on Asgore's back lawn.

"I won't deny I've saved a bit of money not needing my lawnmower, but it's become rather cumbersome to tend to my flowers since otherwise they'd be devoured immediately. Thank you for fetching those extra pots, by the way."

"Baa-a-a-a-a!"

"..."

"COULDN'T A FARM TAKE THEM?"

"That was my first thought, but the nearest farm to us deals strictly in cattle. And most animal shelters aren't equipped to feed goats, apparently."

"WHAT ABOUT SETTING UP A PETTING ZOO?"

Asgore looked skywards as he considered it. "Perhaps. The children would likely enjoy it. But I could never guarantee I'd have the time to run it. Flowers thrive better than animals when their owners need to engage in diplomacy."

"Baa."

"..."

"WELL PERHAPS UNDYNE MIGHT HAVE A SOLUTION, I'VE HEARD HER TALKING ABOUT 'CARING FOR AN OLD GOAT' BEFORE, AND IT WAS DEFINITELY NOT SARCASM!"

Asgore allowed himself a smirk at this revelation. "Well perhaps I can get advice. My next port of call would be an animal welfare society, they might have better logistics for this than a local shelter might."

"..."

"A CAPITAL IDEA, YOUR MAJESTY!"

"Thank you, Papyrus. Oh, Sans, are you alright...?"

Sans had been staring at the herd without stop ever since Papyrus asked about the floral overload in Asgore's kitchen. At the king's prompt, he turned to face him and his brother, his grin radiating a barely restrained excitement.

"ANSWER THE KING, LAZYBONES! ARE YOU ABOUT TO FALL DOWN OR NOT?"

"...nah, i'm fine, pap. just sufferin' from a little hyperparonomasia."

"EGADS! IS THAT FATAL? IS IT _CONTAGIOUS?!_ YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME YOU WERE ILL, DOCTOR DRAKE COULD HAVE-"

"'s nothin' like that, bro. i just got too many choices."

"Too many choices?" Asgore scratched his beard in polite puzzlement. "About what?"

"well..." he looked up at Asgore's horns, "do i tell ya this has _goat_ to be annoying to deal with? or maybe you _hoof_ to change your job title to shepherd? or how it's great ya don't _bleat_ about the problem? the opportunities are endless. an' i don't wanna use them all up here, i gotta find tori and share 'em with her!"

Three loud noises pierced the air at roughly the same time. The goat closest to them chose that moment to begin a caprine soliloquy. Asgore, not expecting the verbal assault, burst out into raucous laughter. And Papyrus, his rather shallow cup of indignation overflowing, began an admonition.

"SAAAAAAAAANS!!"

"Baa-a-a-a-a!"

Also the goat continued to bleat.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!


End file.
